Pole and weed
In our manufactured world we thrive through separation. Dividing into that which is ours and that which is not wanted. That which is valueless, wild and beyond our control.
Our lives are of manufactured straightness, flatness, smoothness, repetition, order. Everything that comes within the reach of our fingers is pulled into this synthetic orbit. Environments we craft are worlds of metal, plastic, concrete, straight lines, flat planes. Tidy and neat they ease our satisfaction and control.
Yet all we create is immersed in a far larger world of nature. A world somehow always intruding into our manicured lives. Sunsets and clouds, storms and rain, dust and fleas, fire and mould. Ignoring our simplistic pretensions the world of nature irreverently, relentlessly, inconveniently drops impossible beauty into our laps. Like a slap to the cheek it is annoying.
Leaving the smallest crevice in our ordered world is nature’s cue for its tiniest seed to erupt into the fullest luxuriance of life. And in our annoyance we label it weed. Irrepressible counterpoints to our fabrications weeds are a reminder. Like the distant call of a bird in the forest, a reminder that there is more and that perhaps it is greater beyond our wildest imagining. What if a weed is a gift from nature, an opportunity to open your eyes and to see?
Our lives are of manufactured straightness, flatness, smoothness, repetition, order. Everything that comes within the reach of our fingers is pulled into this synthetic orbit. Environments we craft are worlds of metal, plastic, concrete, straight lines, flat planes. Tidy and neat they ease our satisfaction and control.
Yet all we create is immersed in a far larger world of nature. A world somehow always intruding into our manicured lives. Sunsets and clouds, storms and rain, dust and fleas, fire and mould. Ignoring our simplistic pretensions the world of nature irreverently, relentlessly, inconveniently drops impossible beauty into our laps. Like a slap to the cheek it is annoying.
Leaving the smallest crevice in our ordered world is nature’s cue for its tiniest seed to erupt into the fullest luxuriance of life. And in our annoyance we label it weed. Irrepressible counterpoints to our fabrications weeds are a reminder. Like the distant call of a bird in the forest, a reminder that there is more and that perhaps it is greater beyond our wildest imagining. What if a weed is a gift from nature, an opportunity to open your eyes and to see?
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Pole and weed
In our manufactured world we thrive through separation. Dividing into that which is ours and that which is not wanted. That which is valueless, wild and beyond our control.
Our lives are of manufactured straightness, flatness, smoothness, repetition, order. Everything that comes within the reach of our fingers is pulled into this synthetic orbit. Environments we craft are worlds of metal, plastic, concrete, straight lines, flat planes. Tidy and neat they ease our satisfaction and control.
Yet all we create is immersed in a far larger world of nature. A world somehow always intruding into our manicured lives. Sunsets and clouds, storms and rain, dust and fleas, fire and mould. Ignoring our simplistic pretensions the world of nature irreverently, relentlessly, inconveniently drops impossible beauty into our laps. Like a slap to the cheek it is annoying.
Leaving the smallest crevice in our ordered world is nature’s cue for its tiniest seed to erupt into the fullest luxuriance of life. And in our annoyance we label it weed. Irrepressible counterpoints to our fabrications weeds are a reminder. Like the distant call of a bird in the forest, a reminder that there is more and that perhaps it is greater beyond our wildest imagining. What if a weed is a gift from nature, an opportunity to open your eyes and to see?
Our lives are of manufactured straightness, flatness, smoothness, repetition, order. Everything that comes within the reach of our fingers is pulled into this synthetic orbit. Environments we craft are worlds of metal, plastic, concrete, straight lines, flat planes. Tidy and neat they ease our satisfaction and control.
Yet all we create is immersed in a far larger world of nature. A world somehow always intruding into our manicured lives. Sunsets and clouds, storms and rain, dust and fleas, fire and mould. Ignoring our simplistic pretensions the world of nature irreverently, relentlessly, inconveniently drops impossible beauty into our laps. Like a slap to the cheek it is annoying.
Leaving the smallest crevice in our ordered world is nature’s cue for its tiniest seed to erupt into the fullest luxuriance of life. And in our annoyance we label it weed. Irrepressible counterpoints to our fabrications weeds are a reminder. Like the distant call of a bird in the forest, a reminder that there is more and that perhaps it is greater beyond our wildest imagining. What if a weed is a gift from nature, an opportunity to open your eyes and to see?
Ref:
Date:
Location:
Photographer:
THOUGHT
Pole and weed
In our manufactured world we thrive through separation. Dividing into that which is ours and that which is not wanted. That which is valueless, wild and beyond our control.
Our lives are of manufactured straightness, flatness, smoothness, repetition, order. Everything that comes within the reach of our fingers is pulled into this synthetic orbit. Environments we craft are worlds of metal, plastic, concrete, straight lines, flat planes. Tidy and neat they ease our satisfaction and control.
Yet all we create is immersed in a far larger world of nature. A world somehow always intruding into our manicured lives. Sunsets and clouds, storms and rain, dust and fleas, fire and mould. Ignoring our simplistic pretensions the world of nature irreverently, relentlessly, inconveniently drops impossible beauty into our laps. Like a slap to the cheek it is annoying.
Leaving the smallest crevice in our ordered world is nature’s cue for its tiniest seed to erupt into the fullest luxuriance of life. And in our annoyance we label it weed. Irrepressible counterpoints to our fabrications weeds are a reminder. Like the distant call of a bird in the forest, a reminder that there is more and that perhaps it is greater beyond our wildest imagining. What if a weed is a gift from nature, an opportunity to open your eyes and to see?
Our lives are of manufactured straightness, flatness, smoothness, repetition, order. Everything that comes within the reach of our fingers is pulled into this synthetic orbit. Environments we craft are worlds of metal, plastic, concrete, straight lines, flat planes. Tidy and neat they ease our satisfaction and control.
Yet all we create is immersed in a far larger world of nature. A world somehow always intruding into our manicured lives. Sunsets and clouds, storms and rain, dust and fleas, fire and mould. Ignoring our simplistic pretensions the world of nature irreverently, relentlessly, inconveniently drops impossible beauty into our laps. Like a slap to the cheek it is annoying.
Leaving the smallest crevice in our ordered world is nature’s cue for its tiniest seed to erupt into the fullest luxuriance of life. And in our annoyance we label it weed. Irrepressible counterpoints to our fabrications weeds are a reminder. Like the distant call of a bird in the forest, a reminder that there is more and that perhaps it is greater beyond our wildest imagining. What if a weed is a gift from nature, an opportunity to open your eyes and to see?
