It was impossible to capture the vaporous emanation with a camera.
Unable to shoot into the light,
Requiring a dark background
Giving it something to contrast against.
It doesn’t look the same, It doesn’t feel the same.
It’s silhouette reveals movement but lacks the depth of field of vision that give the Spirit its dimension
It is not the light or heat or glow of plasma that are obvious and vital, essential aspects of the soul of life
it is the breath.
The moving atmosphere.
The respiration of space
The spirits occupying place.
expressed outwardly as shape.
Particles suspended,excited
Moving with a liquidity ,curvilinear contours of subtle temperature differences.
Flow and twist and spin in a Pranic Pantomime.
A pine incense stick over irregular stocking warn Hemlock floor boards in my trippy house.
The wood grain and knots a chronicle of the Weather and Life of a hundred years ago.
The carbon pulled from the air and fused into solid form by the Tree.
The tendril of smoke composed of similar material freed from its’ fixed form by fire
The wood is the host for the guest.
the guest of our Body is our Ghost
Apparitions of a presence.
A Being , A connection
A moment I asked My Son to Photograph
Spirits existing amongst us,around us,within us
Moving ,
Breathing
Sharing our Spaces
