The first idea I had once I realized I had contracted the Covid Virus more than a week ago was strange: I promised myself that I would take photographs of my flowers no matter what I felt and post them on my blog, and would never sell them but give them away.

I think on some level, I understood this could be an important part of my recovery and healing.

For most of my life, I paid little attention to flowers.

I was not interested in gardens and never had one or worked in one. When I met Maria and began taking pictures, I started noticing flowers more and was drawn to their colors, especially if I got up close.

And I admired the beautiful work she did with her gardens. It transformed our house.

I suppose my breakdown, divorce, and marriage to Maria opened me up.

Divorce can do that. So can love. I suddenly was thinking a lot about flowers and using some Canon macro lenses to take close-up pictures of them. One critic wrote that I had a gift for macro photography.

The images were promising, but they weren’t unique enough; I wanted something more. I wanted to go deeper.

I wanted to see them differently through my photography, I wanted to get very close, to go inside of them, to know each one as a separate world with a soul and with a spirit and pulse and heart.

 

 

This summer, I came closer to doing what I wanted.

One reason was the raised garden beds. I couldn’t get down on the ground quickly anymore, so I brought the flowers up to me, eye level, head to head. That, and my Iphone 13 newly acquired Leica cameras, opened the door for me.

Suddenly, I was not just taking pictures but making art. This is what I wanted.

It took me years to figure out how to get close the way I wanted, changing lenses, and cameras, position, studying the light, and finally taking lessons from wizards.

But it wasn’t until this summer, when I planted my flowers in my garden beds, that I finally figured out how to do what I had wanted to do.

A lot of different things came together.

Today, I went out, drove around, did some overdue food shopping, and got Maria some fresh salmon, her favorite food, and some fresh cod for me.

I came home just in time for the daily Covid crash, as I called it. But I had to go outside and take some photos before lying down.

I wanted to write about how much the flowers are helping me to heal and why this might be so.

One reason, to be honest, is praise.

I’ve never been praised for any picture as much as I have been praised all summer for these. Any artist wants his work to connect with people, and these flower pictures are associated with many people, many of whom took the trouble to write to me.

Getting that much praise is transformative. I don’t wish to be a slave to it, but any true artist will sit up and take notice. I want to do even better.

As you know, I have trouble tolerating the often obnoxious and intrusive people who swarm like hornets on social media and the Internet. I am overly sensitive to it.

It was sweet – and healing –  to see this connection I was making between my pictures and readers. Some people appreciate it; some just can’t.

I wanted to capture the spirit of the flower, a symbol that is representative of life itself. I want to find a way to do this again and again, and not just with flowers. I’m on to something.

 

 

My photography idea brought me closer than ever to the flowers and to nature itself.

Close up; they were so much more than pretty flowers.

They were living, breathing, sometimes even sensual things. I came right up to their souls and was amazed to find they had souls. They showed them to me.

They were even more beautiful inside than on the outside. Their souls changed daily, and no two were alike—what a beautiful world.

I felt closer to nature and its divine beauty than I have ever come and was in awe at the world’s wonder.

The flowers made me think that the earth is often wasted on human beings, so few appreciate its wonder and beauty.

I’ve never been closer to Mother Earth, and it felt when I pointed to the camera that I had entered a temple, a church, a mosque, a sacred space.

Every time I got close and took a photo, I forgot how sick I was and was lifted up. Whenever I felt discouraged, worried, or ill, I grabbed a camera and went outside to my garden. And when I came back into the farmhouse, I felt better.

Maria noticed it.

My Leicas and Iphone were entirely in sync with what I was doing, they practically jumped out of my hand, and I owe them so much.

It almost felt as if the flowers understood me, knew I was sick at times, opened up to me, and waited for me, and I felt healing every time I went out to see them. It picked me up and made me stronger.

They made me feel better every time; they were comforting. Their beauty just lifted me every single day.

I never imagined flowers could do such a thing; I was in awe of the photos I was getting and came into the house every morning to find Maria and show her my photos.

Just as belly dancing brought Maria out of herself,  these photos were connecting me to the idea of real art. That was new for me.

As she has always done, Maria praised them and encouraged what I was doing. More importantly, as an artist, she understood it. I know many others would have rolled their eyes years ago and yawned. Many did.

So the Garden Bed and the flowers in it have entered the circle of my life, fueled my imagination, and brought me close to real artistry.

They have become powerful medicine and kept me steady and grounded.  They made me feel better every day, even when I felt worse.

Covid is a lonely and isolating thing; the flowers were too bright and beautiful for me to stay down for long.

I loved going out there every morning, uploading my photos to see my catch of the day, and being pleased. Not all images worked out, but three or four always made me gasp up close.

I had images that surprised me; I didn’t recognize many of them when I took them. It was as if the cameras and the flowers had their dialogue.

As I began to heal, I wanted to stop and acknowledge how important my flowers have been in this process of healing.

Thanks for watching and, in some cases, joining in. You helped me heal too.