Among the many photographers I admire very much is Brad Cole. In a wonderful conversation he had with John Paul Caponigro almost two decades ago, Cole spoke, along with other things, about moving beyond the "patriarchy" of the light and looking instead into the dark depths of the Earth mother. He muses, "It's not that I'm against the light. I just want more in the minor key."
I think about this a lot these winter days when that misty air I spoke of in my last entry is closer to an impenetrable fog and the space, therefore, is hemmed in and mysterious in its obfuscation. I think about it as I note the mouldering clematis on my back patio. I think about it as I cross the creek separating the parking lot from my office, observing the meagre signs of spring in the exposed creek bed.
Like Cole, I like the minor key, as evidenced also by every song I have written.
Here, then, is a small tribute to this winter's dark mother minor key.