Three Ages of Being Human
Three Ages of Man by Italian painter Giorgio Barbarelli da Castelfranco; c. 1477/8–1510[2]) |
My daughter Tegan at 3 or 4 and myself at 34 or 35. |
Obvious differences such as the image being a mirror result from the process itself as well as from my own newness to my profession as an artist. For instance Giorgione so beautifully layers the light and shadows over his subjects in a meaningful way. Why did I not capture this more meaningful story? Why is the middle aged master held in darkness? Why are the eyes of the youth shaded? Why is the eldest in such full light? And lastly why is it only the eldest who looks back at us? The artist himself died at the age of 30 and yet from the standpoint of nearly 500 years later, it seems he had much to teach us all.
Also around the age of 21, I created the following series for another class. It was a foundational course and our professor was very technical. He had us creating series after series of images: on color, on light, on perspective, on time, on still lives, and even on bisected rooms throughout the course of a day. Below may have been a final piece for course end. And again I see clearly my missing my family and home. I chose to show the passage of time through the family mail box. At the time my parents had considered moving out of the house I grew up in. In the end they did not. That sad day came for my siblings and myself when we had to clear the house twice during the tumultuous times when they moved to assisted living and then after their deaths. Looking back I believe I forecasted my feelings.
A favorite photo I have is one taken by my ex-husband when I was 31. It is of myself, my daughter, my mom, and my grandmother - 4 generations of our matriarchal line. In this photo, my mother is perhaps 3 years younger than I am now. I love the joy in our faces and how it seems a thread passes through us all. I often look at photos like this trying to learn from her.
Perhaps that is why I am occasionally melancholy these days. It is not in regards to my own mortality. It has more to do with what next now? With many goals achieved there is no model for what comes next as life winds out its final 10, 20, or with luck 30 years. Our times have changed. If there is another Krenzer girl child from my grandmother's line, she will not be coddled by 3 elder generations. Even the state of our own nation and planet itself is in question. My melancholy is due to those questions but larger still is my own "homesickness" at the passing of those I have loved and looked up to for their wisdom. When I go too deeply down that path in my heart, I think of my mother and am reminded that she too lost those she loved and what she did was to embrace those around her. I am reminded to take joy in those here now, to celebrate their lives and our time together.
Tegan and myself now |
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