I tend to have a preference for nostalgia and for imagery that provokes questions: "Where does that road lead? This actually feels cold, hot, lonely, etc." With each shot I personally associate the sounds, smells, feelings, temperature, etc. Not everyone can or will connect with a photograph in this way. That is the beauty of this medium and what makes each photographer different. My only advice about photography is "Be in love with what you see." All images Copyright Bowman Gray 2018
Saturday, May 9, 2009
OBX Lighthouses: Ocracoke, Bodie & Hatteras
How often do we look at lighthouses and are so impressed with the structure itself that we fail to notice the details such as the windows. I'd love to get inside and take some pictures. I expect that the extremes between the sun pouring in through any possible entrance and the shadows created by the thick concrete walls would be great fodder for some black and white. Anyway, the more I look at these, the more I am feeling the need to go back.
The Lighthouse
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
and on its outer point, some miles away,
the lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.
Even at this distance I can see the tides,
Upheaving, break unheard along its base,
A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides
in the white tip and tremor of the face.
And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,
through the deep purple of the twilight air,
Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light,
with strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!
No one alone: from each projecting cape
And perilous reef along the ocean’s verge,
Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,
Holding its lantern o’er the restless surge.
Like the great giant Christopher it stands
Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,
Wading far out among the rocks and sands,
The night o’er taken mariner to save.
And the great ships sail outward and return
Bending and bowing o’er the billowy swells,
And ever joyful, as they see it burn
They wave their silent welcome and farewells.
They come forth from the darkness, and their sails
Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,
And eager faces, as the light unveils
Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.
The mariner remembers when a child,
on his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink
And when returning from adventures wild,
He saw it rise again o’er ocean’s brink.
Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same,
Year after year, through all the silent night
Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame,
Shines on that inextinguishable light!
It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp
The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace:
It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.
The startled waves leap over it; the storm
Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form
press the great shoulders of the hurricane.
The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din
of wings and winds and solitary cries,
Blinded and maddened by the light within,
Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.
A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,
Still grasping in his hand the fire of love,
it does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,
but hails the mariner with words of love.
“Sail on!” it says: “sail on, ye stately ships!”
And with your floating bridge the ocean span;
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse.
Be yours to bring man nearer unto man.
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2 comments:
cool blog..
keep writing
>>Blogger Dynamic™<<
(^.^)
Oi. Parabéns pelo excelente blog. Gostaria de lhe convidar para visitar meu blog e conhecer alguma coisa sobre o Brasil. Abração
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