Ritornello

Each of Vivaldi's Four Seasons has a corresponding sonnet.
The second stanza of Spring reads:

As the sky is clouded all in black,
Lightning flashes and thunder roars
But when they are over, the little birds,
Return to sing their enchanting song.

Aside from maybe one week total, it has been either grey & foggy sky or torrential rain in Houston since Christmas.

Last night I couldn't sleep more than an hour at a time because the lightning was so bright -- with my blinds shut.

But, as Vivaldi reminds me,

lightning and thunder and black

=

birds and song and enchantment.

* * *

I've been called out on a lot of my own trappings lately.

Oh how pride fluffs out our feathers before we return, tiny as breathing, back to the nest.

(ritornello)

* * *

I'm trying to parse through the why of what I post.

I feared it would stop me from sharing at all, then I feared it would stop me from sharing specific types of photos.

(Am I more self-objectifying than I want to admit? Am I more self-exploitative than I want to admit?

Even worse, what about these questions that relates to the non-self, to anyone else I photograph?)

But I've answered these for myself (and I will a thousand times more, that's the only requirement I have regarding what I make).

Next, however, I need to ask:  what else can I make/share to challenge what you see here,

you who show up and don't KNOW that I ask (and answer) these questions.

* * *

First, here is Max Richter's recomposition of Vivaldi's Spring:

And second, here are all of the failed, same-format self-portraits I've taken in exactly one month, including through yesterday.

From these I hope you remember that I've oft quoted this Sam Beckett and believe it in everything

(live it in everything)

I do, make, share, love:

Ever tried. Ever failed.
No matter.
Try again. Fail again. Fail better.

* * *

 I'm not sure which it says about me:

I neurotically re-attempt an act whose outcome I've experienced as failure

or

I persevere.