Gas. #winter #Hopper “Tinselations, tessalations, tessaracts — the cold captures the downward trajectory of tears.” Beneath that line, a kind composition of two icicles. It was her last post before the sickness that took her life.
This morning’s ice storm, and the branches and leaves I was drawn to, made me think of Paula Tatarunis and the thoughtful, twelve-year-long conversation between her poetry and photography. It and something of Paula’s spirit are still there, frozen in time: paulashouseoftoast.blogspot.com.
From the same post: “Close looking (while the eye lasts) rewards the eye: someone’s last breath, cast in ice, hangs inside a drop. [photo] For a single brief moment you might think you feel the comforting touch of a humanoid ghost.”