Tag: Photography Project
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Twenty-Eight – Threshold
Imagine arriving at a gate to neither pass through it, or leave. To find yourself at its threshold, and remain. To feel that you cannot place a confident hand upon its frame, and push – without permission – without the knowledge of what awaits you on the other side – without needing either.Imagine arriving at…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Twenty-Six – Intertidal
In the intertidal space,Nothing is as sureAs change;Nothing as certainAs tumult –Yet,There are those who reside there;In pools left behindBy the tide,Or in the depthsWhen it’s at its highest.I wonder if the sea anemoneRecoils at the oncoming;If the limpet and musselFlinch at the onslaught;If they feel the weight –The reliefWhen the flood recedes.No –For they…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Twenty-Four – The Oblivious Bird
The small bird knows not what the sight of it in flight can do for those who cannot leave the ground. It is not cognisant of the capacity of its own song to bring music in the moment. It is unaware of the awe invoked by its pattern and colour. It cannot conceive of its…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Twenty-Three – All That Is Lost
This is the tree that spoke for itself. For which no words of mine were forthcoming when I photographed it five days ago, and came to respond with The Honest Writer.This is the tree that saw me assert that when a work of art has its own authentic and resounding voice, writing can only ever…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Twenty – Selfhood
When you were born,There was justYou.That word,With no appendages,Correlations,Associations,Was all there was;Was all that was needed.You were born.You were new.You were unique.You were loved.You existed,And that was enough.And then the rest came,When youStarted speakingAnd youWere funny;And expressive;And inventive;And in pain, and upset, or happy, and / or all the thingsThat living entails.You went to this…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Nineteen – Moored
The harbour at night inspires thoughtsOf the comings and goingsOf moored boats;Vessels that sawThe best of the day. By Emma Hynes This image and story are part of a project I have devised called There Are No Fixed Stars, my creative response to living with COVID-19 restrictions. On 22 October 2020, Ireland’s highest level of protective measures was…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Eighteen – The Honest Writer
The honest writer knows that there are times when words fall short.The astute writer knows when to defer to the image, the sound, the scent; this is why, when we are working within our own medium, we show, and do not tell.In the case of this photograph, I feel the writer in me must step…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Seventeen – The Point of Shelter
Nothing can grow without shelter. Nothing can spread its wings and fly without a solid point from which to take off – but, once established, fly it must.The notion of sanctuary conjures up feelings of comfort; of safety, and of care. But to remain there is to thwart the nurturing in the fulfilment of its…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Sixteen – Momentum
It is through movement, that I beginAnything.It is through maintenance, that I propelEverything.It is through knowing, that I gainMomentum. By Emma Hynes This image and story are part of a project I have devised called There Are No Fixed Stars, my creative response to living with COVID-19 restrictions. On 22 October 2020, Ireland’s highest level of protective measures…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Fifteen – Platform
The thing I recall about train platforms is not the waiting, it’s the looking;At the names of new towns made familiar in your mouth;At your finger as it finds a place on paper timetables encased;At your feet on flecked tiles and local stone;Your breath beneath canopies in winter – your summer shadow on other walls.Your…
Emma Hynes 