I am, in many ways, a fairly obsessive person. (Or passionately engaged if I want to use the most positive of descriptors.) I become tenaciousness in my connections and overwhelmed by certain elements of my experience as a human being. I'll replay the same song for months because every time I'm brought to tears or suddenly in the midst of a memory that nothing else brings up. I'll eat the same sandwich for weekend brunch for, almost, ever. Sit in the same spot in my favorite coffee shop for a year before trying another nook instead...
Right now my obsessive passion is simply a heightened, hyper sensitive noticing of nature and my place in it. Here in the Pacific Northwest, after the most crappy 10 months of dismal weather I can ever remember encountering we have finally hit a vein of beautiful blue, golden light and soft breezes. And so I can't stop an internal repetition of Theodore Roethke's words "...what I love is near at hand, always, in earth and air." I see these words hanging in the air and they echoing in my ears as I lay under grape vines in a dear friends new back yard, when peeking at my scrap of a view of Lake Union at sunset and as the sun makes my skin all prickly with warmth while writing this post.
I get that same feeling browsing through Oliver Morris's photographic collages; the reminder of my place in nature. I am it, it is me. We are simply parts of each other. No more, no less. This (personal knowledge) has so much beauty and quiet revelry in it.
[all images by/belong to Oliver Morris, images via here]