Black and White: Part 5

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Since being invited to take a foray into black and white, I’ve happened upon scenes which translate well–metaphorically–into the absence of color.

There has been no unifying theme, but it occurs to me that three were taken looking down at the earth beneath my feet.  Two–one of a tentative spring bird, and this shot of billowing pure white beyond black steel twisted into a colony of perpetually flying birds–aimed up at the heavens.  Only one, though sunlit, was taken indoors.

The five pictures were taken in three different states.  None was taken at my own eye level. Although two were taken downtown in heavily populated cities, not a human is in sight.

I don’t want to read too much into this, and today marks an anniversary prone to plummet me into not necessarily productive solitary musings, but I sometimes wonder why my vantage point so effectively seals me off, even in a city of millions.

“And out on the street, there are so many possibilities to not be alone. . . .”  And yet I am.

It can be empty out there, even when the streets are filled.

Author: Stephanie

In her spare time, Stephanie works full-time, and then some, as an attorney. She has published articles and delivered talks in arcane fields like forensic evidentiary issues, jury instructions, and expert scientific witness preparation. She attended law school near the the banks of the Charles River and loves that dirty water; she will always think of Boston as her home. You are welcome to take a look at her Facebook author page, or follow @SMartinGlennon on Twitter and @schnitzelpond on Instagram. Bonus points for anyone who understands the Instagram handle. All content on this blog, unless otherwise attributed, is (c) 2012-2023 by Stephanie M. Glennon and should not be reproduced (in any form other than re-blogging in accordance with the wee Wordpress buttons at the bottom of each post) without the express permission of the domain holder.

3 thoughts on “Black and White: Part 5”

  1. You are never alone my dear. We are with you, if not by your side physically, we are there in spirit. Love the black and white photos.

  2. “To be different is to be alone. To be alone is to be different.” The author of those lines escapes me, but it is the zone that I enter when I am doing B&W photography. I am like a fly on a wall, an untethered balloon drifting on unseen currents of air.

    Your B&W photos have been lovely. I hope that you are able to continue in that medium as you feel fit to do so. I have found that Color photography enhances life, while B&W strips it down to a minimum. Ω

  3. Alone is not bad. It is. We are alone in our thoughts, in our transitions, even though others go through thinking and transitioning, too. Sharing is a half-way point, an interesting intersection. Thanks for sharing your voice and your vision, Stephanie!

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