Pillow talk and Equivalents; Stieglitz and clouds

I have just been introduced to Alfred Stieglitz's  'Equivalents'; a series created when his mother was dying, with the intention of showing that it was not , as had been suggested, the hypnotic power of Stieglitz over his sitters that created the power within his photography. By photographing clouds, over which he had no control and which are free to be experienced by anyone, he hoped to disprove this theory. I described one of my images of chaos in the woods as self expression. A friend repsonded with a mention of Steiglitz and his series of clouds.

Abstract cloud photographs were created with the described intention of allowing the viewer to experience the equivalent emotion to that which the photographer experienced.

What emotions does the image below convey? And how can I know what effect it will have on different viewers. The idea that the viewer will experience the same emotion as mine is not something that I would ever have considered to be likely.

bed © caroline fraser 2012

I know that I felt angry about this discarded mattress, and a desire to express my feelings about the littering of my favourite place; but what makes an image powerful enough to create equivalent emotions in the viewer? Surely it depends on who we are and what we believe.

And why didn't I feel the angry about the abandoned pillow that I described in an earlier post?

the abandoned pillow story

I followed the changes to a pillow left in the undergrowth. It remained there for several weeks just off the path where I walk dog. Through rain and snow it lay undisturbed, and then one day, just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

 I am fairly sure that the kind people who do litter picking will have removed it to a more appropriate place, but in a way I have missed it and the chance to consider why it lay where it did. Nestling in the ivy it had a certain beauty of its own. Despite my indignance that someone would abandon it in the woods, I came to enjoy the flights of fancy that it triggered as I trod through the mud. I was unable to feel anger, only thoughts about what words I might use to describe it's presence ....

a place to rest © caroline fraser 2012

Pillow talk




If I were to rest,


here,


in these woods,


my head on
cool cotton 
polka dot
remains of another's life


What dreams would ensue?
Would I dream differently?
What would I become?


Who would I be?


























It seems to me that it is unlikely that another passer by will experience an equivalent emotion on viewing this image of the pillow. Does that make the image less worthy? The untold story remains untold; we can only create our own stories from what we see.

Inspired by Bill Bryson on a walk in the woods; a little more on litter

pillow talk © Caroline Fraser 2012

I missed my train to London on Sunday, as I got caught up with my self imposed automated directive to photograph each discarded cigarette packet on my short walk to the station; there were at least seven, along with some papers from the House of Commons 1983 blowing around in the gutter. I picked one up, and then wondered why I had, and put it in the next litter bin. I don't plan to extend this project to include government papers as well as health warnings.

As I strolled I pondered on this mild obsession; I recalled the graduation lecture given to my first born at Durham University a few years ago. It was given by Bill Bryson, who entertained and amused graduates and proud parents alike. He had three pieces of advice for a happy future

1. Never let anyone stop you from doing what you want to do in life. 
2. Don't moan; no one likes a moaner.
3. IF YOU SEE ANYONE DROPPING LITTER.............SHOOT THEM!

These words have stayed with me, and I whilst I haven't got involved in the campaign for Rural England's  campaign against litter and fly-tipping that Bill Bryson supports, I do spend a lot of time noticing what people have dropped and feeling concerned that our local woods are full of plastic bottles and sweet wrappers. Local volunteers do a great job  of picking up the litter, led by a delightful man in his late eighties who leads them into battle with his litter picking stick.

I  wonder how long the pink pillow that I found in the undergrowth will remain before someone clears it away. It lies just a few feet from the path, and as I walk with dog, I ponder on how it came to be there, and why the owner didn't want to take it back home again. I imagine creating a story book full of short tales based on the items found on the ground, or a photographic A to Z of found items. Was it an innocent romance, or something more sinister that brought the pillow to its resting place.

fragment © Caroline Fraser 2011

And what about this small fragment of cloth; what story does it tell?

butterfly © Caroline Fraser

Or this pink butterfly that cheered me on an otherwise ordinary day?

Any suggestions for a storyline gratefully received; I am still hoping that a poem might emerge from all of this pondering; but as you can see it is not possible to get bored on a walk in the woods.