Self-portrait in proverbs

This entry is part 11 of 12 in the series Self-Portraits

frost hand
Click on image to view the full-size version

A footprint is a sign; a handprint is a message.

This one says: I choose transparency because that’s the best way to hide.

Solitude is a salt lake with five inlets.

Sand can return to stone, but can glass ever return to sand?

My hand was so thick, I couldn’t see the fog in front of me.

 

tree face

 

Ice is a form of immobility that doesn’t keep. By the time I got my photos of the ice storm home & took them out of my camera, they had already lost almost all their glitter.

When the sky falls, it clings to everything. Trees snap with the weight of it. Beauty is best kept at arm’s length.

If it weren’t for wonder, I might have to go make something of myself.

Trees in the winter aren’t sleeping; they’re procrastinating.

Always remember that nature is out to kill you.

__________

Inspired by the posts at the communal self-portrait site Autography (tagline: “Self-Portrait as Story”).


Series Navigation«Night unto nightUnder my skin»
Filed in Epigrams and Conundrums, Greatest Hits, Photos. Bookmark the permalink. Trackbacks are closed, but you can post a comment.Print Print

16 Responses to Self-portrait in proverbs

  1. Jim Murdoch says:

    Enjoyed the proverbs especially the one about sand and glass.

  2. Peter says:

    I really like “My hand” and “When the sky falls.”

    It made me think: any proverb’s a self-portrait. (I remember my prof’s point: Polonius’s aphorisms are in the context of a play.)

  3. Theriomorph says:

    I love this, Dave. May I please please cross post it at Autography?

  4. Dave says:

    Thanks for the comments. It’s fun hearing which ones y’all like. And Polonius: hadn’t thought of that, but yes! Good negative role model for me.

    Theriomorph – Oh, you think it’ll fit? I thought it was probably a little too “out there.” But sure. I’d be honored.

  5. Anonymous says:

    LOVE the hand print, so ephemeral yet ancient, like the proverbs too!

  6. Lucy says:

    ‘If it weren’t for wonder, I might have to go make something of myself.’
    Yes, yes, yes, me too!

  7. Sally says:

    Thanks for stopping by at Romantic Naturalist, Dave. Yes, I’d appreciate seeing the Reed Noss piece if you find it; haven’t read anything of his in awhile.

    By the way, I really enjoyed this post and the very intriguing photograph. Layers of imagery…

  8. Natalie says:

    Fan-bloody-tastic photo of the blue and gold hand. Stunning. I can’t work out how you took it if it was your own hand?

  9. Dave says:

    Natalie, it’s a handprint on a window. I’m still not sure why I made the print, but immediately after I did so, I thought “picture”!

  10. Natalie says:

    Now I see.

    You have a whole series of photos of icy, snowy subjects in tones of blue/white/gold that are absolutely stunning. They would make a great installation somewhere suitable – have you thought about it?

  11. Dave says:

    Natalie, I’m honored by your high opinion of them. At the moment, I’m not thinking much beyond learning the craft. I’ve never even made a print!

  12. Natalie says:

    Print them, Dave, print them! But try out different photo papers, it makes a huge difference, and some of the ones out there are just crap.

  13. zoe says:

    this is another beautiful post, everything in it fits together perfectly to make a whole. i really enjoy your blogs..

Leave a Reply

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*

URLs are converted to links, and three or more links in one comment will cause it to be sent to the moderation queue. Constructive criticism is always welcome. You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

  • Smorgasblog

    • Metaphors for the Moon
      Early marriage is a wetland, a marsh
      of co-mingling reeds, breeding birds.

    • Cleaning My Attic
      Cast-iron Royal, weighty and not regal at all but seriously proletarian, ostensibly portable in your anonymous black case: my secret unmusical instrument, which I lugged to cafes before they were wireless or even wired...

    • Clumps and Voids
      The program description, however, devolves into the fey. "The lingam (or linga) is a cylindrical votary object that represents the Hindu god Shiva, and a dispute about its meaning has been going on for many centuries." When a phallus is tagged with the museum label of "cylindrical votary object," I lose hope that the speaker will be introduced as Professor Wendy Doniger: don of dongs.

    • botanizing
      On calm days, the soil swirls and rises in isolated twisters. On a windy day when the wheat is being harvested — a day like today — the soil lifts like a yellow curtain, obliterating the sky.

    • The Twitching Line
      My uncle, gutting a fish:
      removing the fins from either side,
      tipping the knife below

      the little anus, pointing the tail-
      end away, slitting it to the gills,
      then plunging in a hand

      to scoop the organs out, soft
      and scarlet as a litter of kittens.

    • The Ordinary and the Wild
      I had a dream the other night about a tall machine, like a crane or an android giraffe, lanky with angles of metal that reach up to the sky when they should somehow be digging. When I woke I felt taller for a moment, and also deeper, as if the soles of my feet had met up with some spilled honey or errant tar while I walked in my sleep.

    • Busily Seeking... Continual Change
      So the mountain was steep? I threw a couple of windbreakers, yogurts and miscellaneous snacks (really, whatever I could lay my hands on at the last minute), wallet, phone, bottles of water--yes, just the things I thought to grab into a new REI bright yellow daypack--and off we went. That was it. Toss things in a bag and go.

    • Chatoyance
      And on the other side, what I
      set in motion: the open field, the low hill,
      a crease scored in bent blades of grass
      where I forgot the wall stood,
      my footsteps blurring as the
      grass unbends.

    • Velveteen Rabbi
      There are trade-offs: in the womb we knew perfect intimacy, but couldn't meet. Now we are separate, which is at once the source of loneliness (especially for him, I'm guessing) and the source of our ability to connect.

    • Will Buckingham
      My small guide and I then did our double-act of worshipping at the shrine, at which point the monk then declared that, once again, I was not doing it right. There followed another twenty minute lesson in proper bowing -- different from the previous lesson, in fact -- and if I have retained anything it is that one’s feet must be aligned like the lines in the number 8 -- an auspicious number in China.

  • "On the whole I concentrated on things and people that I found charming and splendid; my notes are also full of poems and observations on trees and plants, birds and insects."
    — Sei Shonagon, 994 A.D.

`