Two weeks ago, my inlaws gave me a rose from their tiny garden. Their (climbing) rose bush makes the most fragrant roses I have ever smelled. (side note : my father in law burries bananas skins in the soil at their feet) I enjoyed it for a whole week, in the living room, and after a long week, it looked a bit tired.
Then was the perfect moment for me to capture its beauty. Its dark & velvety beauty. This is what it looked like when I decided to take photos. (please note that it was not staged, the solitary vase was on my kitchen table & this is where all these photos were taken from)
Loved the details on the stem.
Silky & powdery seeds in her heart.
Thick layers, like a skirt or a tutu.
Such a beautiful palette of colors & of textures ...
Wrinkled and soft, dried up and still so beautiful. So much wisdom to witness in one single decaying flower.
When I take such photos, it is only to convey that there is extreme, even a little darker, deeper or sadder, beauty in these flowers in decay. For me, they express so much more movement & texture, they have a more artistic appeal at this stage of their life. (of course fresh flowers are very beautiful too, that's not what I mean)
It also inspired me something that I hadn't done in a long while (though I enjoy it immensely). I'll share it in a future post.
Thanks for taking time to stop by & read.
In my previous post, I didn't mean to vex anyone by saying that blogging is not what it used to be. Things have changed, not only in the blogging world, I should be accepting it as it is now, instead of regretting what it used to be.
I should be extremely grateful for the handful of faithful readers who decide to stick with me, instead of wishing for a larger readership. Please accept my apology, and my gratitude.