You are currently browsing the monthly archive for May, 2008.
“Obsession”
This is a montage of photographic elements enhanced by painted elements.
L. Gloyd (c) 2008
“Into the Forest”
Photo Montage
L. Gloyd (c) 2008
“Nile Mystery”
A digital construction.
L.Gloyd (c) 2008
Basho was a famous Japanese poet. Take a few minutes a step into his world:
Lori G. (c) 2008
Here are some photographs I took while on a hike in Temescal Canyon, which is in the Santa Monica Mountains. It is only minutes from a heavily populated urban area, yet here the rangers warn you to keep an eye out for cougars, coyotes, and rattlesnakes. It is truly wild. Since it is spring the brush is still green and at parts so dense that it felt like twilight. I only hiked about an hour and a half since I have not hiked like this for a very long time and I am out of shape. My goal was to reach a waterfall a short distance up the canyon; however, the trail became so steep and rocky and it was already hot at 9 am in the morning, I felt that I couldn’t risk it. Although there were plenty of people on the trail, I didn’t want to have to bother to ask for assistance if I got heat stroke. So I turned around without making it to the waterfall. That’s okay… it will motivate me to come again when it is not so hot and I’m in better shape.
This is where I was heading. I didn’t make it to the top this time.
The name of the canyon, Temescal, is the Chumash word for “sweat lodge” and I presume at one time before the Europeans came there was a sweat lodge in the canyon. Sweat lodges were used by the native Americans in the area for spiritual purposes. Supposedly, sitting in a sweat lodge helped them connect with the spirit realm. I have to to admit that the canyon does have an otherworldly feel to it. I am not surprised they chose this place to connect with the spirits. After a few minutes of walking, the sound of traffic on Sunset Boulevard faded away and I was surrounded by the sound of chirping birds and running water. Serene. Peaceful. It was like being in the sanctuary of a proper church. In some places, the vines (wild cucumber, I think) had grown up the trees and arched over the trail– again it felt like I was surrounded by the soaring vaults and arches of a cathedral. It was truly humbling to stand in the presence of 300 year old oak trees. Extraordinary!
Sycamore trees are the other lords of the forest.
The canopy was extremely dense in some areas.
A grove of coastal oak trees.
I didn’t meet any coyote or cougar today, but I did come across this little fellow along with rabbit, lizards, monarch butterflies (their breeding area) and singing birds of all kinds.
And looking back towards the Pacific Ocean.
Images and text: L. Gloyd (c) 2008
I spent the day with Pablo,
a stranger I yearn to know.
We met at the shore, where
Calle de las Sirenas winds down
to meet the sea, swirling and rolling
like a drunk in a rocky cove.
He is hard to know, this Pablo.
His voice whispers words
I strain to hear.
His puzzling songs–
of lovers and death,
of moss-covered stones
sleeping beneath
the Southern Cross,
of calls to solitude and solidarity–
beguile me.
Am I the woman he longs for?
Am I the lover he yearns to caress
with fingers like fiery rays of an afternoon sun?
Or is it another, distant and ancient,
that evokes his saddest song?
He spits at me, this Pablo,
so I slide back to the sea,
his song growing more dim
until the sea covers over me
and I melt into death.
Poem and images: L. Gloyd (c) 2008
Originally published at the Pythian Games and at Il Postino.
If you need a bit of a breather from the hustle and bustle of your day, take a virtual stroll through my friend Grace’s garden. It will truly soothe your soul:
Lori G. (c) 2008
“Desert Muse”
The Forgotten Muse, they call me.
When all my sisters scamper away to greener
realms and abandon you in a barren place,
when an accusing sun bears down
upon you in relentless unforgiveness,
I am there.
I wait in the dark and stony
ravines of your soul,
and listen for you
to call on me.
In the desert night,
under a new moon
when not one ray of silver light
shines to show your way,
I circle the perimeter of your camp,
like Coyote, waiting for you to look to me.
And when you do,
you know you are no longer alone.
I cannot lead you out of
the desert, but I will sit with you
until my sisters’ return,
until you rise once more and wander again.
Then you will forget me.
Until the next time.
Image and text: L. Gloyd (c) 2008. This is a montage of photographic and computer-generated elements. If you would like to see the process by which I constructed this image, click HERE.
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