Just a cluster of leaves?

Something in that clump of leaves caught my eye. 

“No!  Damn it!  I have work to do! Not today!” 

I prepared for the satisfying pop and crunch of dry leaves underfoot. 

But, these days I’m trying to treat everyone and everything that I encounter with at least a little kindness. Why should a cluster of dead leaves be the exception? So, I slowed my pace and considered the value of the cluster of leaves, for just a moment or two.  What could be the harm?

Though the cluster of leaves were positioned in the way of my day’s progress by no effort or fault of their own, the manner and sound of their movement gave them the personification, (or animalification?) of an angry crab blocking my path and raising a toothy claw in defiance, or defense.  This would not be my first encounter with an angry crab.  But, certainly it was my first such encounter so far from the sea.     

My pace slowed nearly to a stop, and a smile raised the corners of my lips, as I allowed myself the unearned luxury of sliding into a pleasant memory. 

If the productive day that I had planned when I climbed out of bed was a train on a journey, my train had just been derailed twice within a few moments, by a clump of leaves.  Horribly derailed? Or delightfully derailed?   I can’t decide.  That’s the question at the core of this writing, and the accompanying artwork. 

I no longer stood in autumn, on the sidewalk, or on Hancock street in Somerville.  I was standing in summertime, on the fishing pier at Castle Island in Boston, with my son Zachary and our friend Alex. 

Our afternoon of fishing had been uneventful due to a conflict between our busy schedules, the desire to hook a big “striper”, and the laws of nature.  In other words: We were fishing at low tide.  The chances of catching anything at all were quite slim.  Our chances of hooking one of those 20 pound striped bass that we dreamed about, were near zero. 

All afternoon the sudden excitement of a perceived tug of “the big one” on the line gave way immediately to disappointment as we realized that instead of hooking a ”Monster Bass”, we had hooked the ocean floor.  I spent most of the afternoon cutting snagged fishing lines and optimistically installing new hooks, sinkers, and hunks of squid.  Determinedly, the two boys continued to hurl said hooks, sinkers and squid into the shallower and shallower water alongside the pier. 

We were just about to concede defeat, and call it a day, when suddenly, Zachary shouted, “I caught something!” And, he yanked a shiny, thrashing sea creature out of the water, and up onto the pier. 

“What is it!?” “What is it!?”

One of my favorite aspects of salt water fishing are those first few moments when you know that you’ve caught something, but you’re not quite sure what. On this particular afternoon, Zachary had hooked a small, but extremely feisty crab!

Cranky crab

As we scrambled to find a bucket or net to contain the little guy so we could study him (or her) for a minute or two, the crab had plans of its own. It freed itself, and began to make a hasty retreat across the pier. We surrounded the crab and tried to soothe it with words like: “Calm down little guy. We just want to take your picture.”

The crab was having none of that! It turned to face each one of us, looking us straight in the eye with it’s beady little crab eyes. When it was certain that it had our undivided attention, the crab raised its largest claw into the air and opened and closed it slowly, menacingly. Cint Eastwood’s famous line: “Do you feel lucky punk?…..Well?….Do ya?” came to mind, as the little crab held us at bay.

Honestly, I can’t blame the crab. If I were camping, and a grizzly bear dragged me out of my tent by my lip; and tried to explain to me in bear language (which sounds a lot like angry, or perhaps hungry, growling); that he just wanted to take my photograph; I would use any tactic at my disposal (including those employed by “Dirty Harry”) to get away.

Apparently, we were not “feeling lucky”. The crab’s tactic caused us to hesitate just long enough for it to back all of the way to the edge of the pier. Then, with one last victorious wave of it’s raised claw, the crab said, “So long suckers!” in crab language, and hopped off the pier, back into the frothy ocean below.

Back on Hancock street in Somerville: I didn’t realize it yet, but I was the curious and hungry crab. The clump of leaves were the fisherman’s lure, and I was about to be hooked by my own creativity and artistic curiosity. I gently picked up the leaves and took them into the house.

How would the leaves look under incandescent light? Fluorescent light? Bright sunlight? How would they look with alternating bands of sunlight and shadow from my venetian blind?

They remind me of the birds with which they shared the trees

Funny. They almost look like a bird from this angle, don’t they?

What about an extreme closeup, with the color balance adjusted a bit? I’m not a purest, and I’m not purely a photographer. So, Photoshop is not “cheating” in my book.

Lingering signs of life

The leaves look so bright and alive in the above image. What if I go the other way, and accentuate the fact that they are dead, and spotted with the first signs of decay?

First hints of decay

You might think that I’ve exhausted the possibilities. But, this is just the beginning. What if I modify the images above? What if I cut them into pieces and rearrange the pieces? What if I overlay those pieces on top of one another in layers, then modify the transparency, color balance, and contrast of the individual layers? What kind of completely new images start to emerge from this process? What kind of meaning could these new images have? What do these images tell me about the leaves, about myself?

A portrait of the sun?

And I repeat the process, and I repeat it again,

The flowering tree of springtime

and again, and again.

With each step I see something different emerge: Faces, flowers, animals, symbols…….. I wonder if this “art” would look good printed on fabric, like a tapestry? I realize that I’m exhausted. I brought the leaves in just after dropping the kids off at school, just before I was going to eat breakfast. It’s 2:00 PM. I missed breakfast. I missed lunch. I haven’t done any work. “For what?” I ask myself.

Then, just like the feisty little crab, I set myself free. I slammed my palm down hard on the cluster of leaves, then brushed the pieces into the trash. I closed all of the photoshop files and made myself a bowl of oatmeal. I’ll just have to work late tonight to make up for…… whatever it is that I did today.

But, there is a better ending to this story. I promise!

I was recently invited to submit artwork to be considered for inclusion in the ArtsMedford exhibit titled “2023 Autumnal Equinox” to be held at the Medford Public Library (111 High Street Medford Massachusetts) from September 11 – October 26, 2023.

It occurred to me that maybe I was a bit too hasty in casting the leaves aside.

I could look at the leaf cluster incident as a lost day of work, as described above. Or, I could (and I will) look at it as the adventure that it was, and continues to be.

Is there an activity that you enjoy so much that you lose yourself in it completely for an hour or two? Suddenly, you look up and say, “Wow, where did the time go?” It’s a time warp of sorts. It’s a very pleasing and therapeutic time warp.

The cluster of leaves was / is just such a time warp for me. And, it came with a bonus! I’m pretty sure that I had filed away the day of the feisty crab as a “bad day of fishing” in my brain. But now, thanks to the cluster of leaves, it has been transformed into the joyful memory that it always should have been.

I transformed the cluster of leaves, and they transformed me.

I am pleased to announce that the artwork above, as well as two of my photographs will be featured in the ArtsMedford “2023 Autumnal Equinox” exhibit.

“First Hints of Autumn”

“Autumnal Wreath”

CLICK HERE TO SEE THE WORK OF ALL OF THE TALENTED ARTISTS EXHIBITING THEIR WORK IN THE ARTSMEDFORD AUTUMNAL EQUINOX EXHIBIT!

Please click below if you would like to download a printable flyer for the exhibit.

RETURN TO MAIN SITE

The post Leaves on My Path appeared first on .