through a glass, darkly emery house – spring, 2013
The image is through the glass at the back of the Chapel of the Transfiguration at Emery House. (I’m outside, shooting into the chapel.) So, what can you see – my head, red azaleas, outside steps, green hillside. Inside, on the left is a schefflera, (The superimposed ferns are outside, behind me and reflected in the glass.) then the altar with candles, a wooden statue of Francis of Assisi, mother-in-law’s tongues, chapel chairs, philodendron leaves. The layers in this image are what I like best especially the steps that cascade through the middle.
The post-title is from the 1961 Ingmar Bergman film of the same title. And he took it from 1 Corinthians 13, verse 12. Through a Glass Darkly is the first film in his Silence of God trilogy. I don’t like Paul’s New Testament diatribes, but I like Bergman’s films. The old construct is from the King James. The modern translation – Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror – turn this prepositional diamond into dollar-store bling.
it’s for them i’m really yearning emery house – spring, 2013
The seasons in Newburyport, Massachusetts are about two weeks behind Western PA.
I’m walking the trails on the Emery House property through meadows full of yellow dandelion and dandelion seed-heads. And low to the ground another genus sprouts among the tall green grasses. The white petals are wet with dew, they twinkle in the morning light. (I had thought of bringing my iPod, but once I was out in the sunlight, hearing the birds, the iPod would have been the antithesis to the naturalness around me.)
now in the fading light of day emery house – spring, 2013
The western sky glowed with the setting sun. We had just sung Compline and I was walking the road back to the cottages and decided that I needed to shoot the evening clouds. Clouds laced with the fading light of day.
After Compline, The Great Silence begins. There’s a map in the office of Emery House designating the area where The Great Silence is to be observed. (Did the monks in medieval Europe have a map delineating where one could talk?) It’s amazing to me that I am on a 150 acre farm north of Boston, in Yankee, Protestant New England following Catholic monastic rhythms.
maker of all to you we pray. that with your ever watchful love, you guard and keep us from above. help and defend us through the night, danger and terror put to flight. never let evil have its way, preserve us for another day.